


a home away from home

by Anonymous



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Coping, First Time, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Laughter During Sex, Lowercase, M/M, Not Beta Read, Retirement, Reunion Sex, Slice of Life, Snow, Teasing, Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28911342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: our hero finally is allowed to relax. to spend genuine time with his best friend after too many years of fighting. maybe after that, they can be more than just friends.maybe that's what he wanted all along.(in the end it's just pillow princess tubbo and tommy being smitten)antis dni :] your favorite lowercase author is here, creator of tubbo and tommy but make it best friends to lovers. i won't be putting this into a group or topic anymore to keep my things anonymousthey are 18 years old in this and it's their dsmp!characters, not them! ^^
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo/TommyInnit
Comments: 18
Kudos: 265
Collections: Anonymous





	a home away from home

snowchester was a home away from home.

little trinkets, bits, and baubles lined the insulated windows, snow often gathered around at it's base, flattened against the thick panes of glass — cold to the touch but an entertaining enough sight when tubbo laid inside, stretched across the couch, breathing a hot breath that fogged the pane, brushing their wild tawny locks. they would doodle quick things — hearts, smiley faces, the usual. it was another day they had opted to spend away from it all, spent sleeping, chopping wood, stoking the fire, hunting, tending to their crops ... it was simple. it was everything they wanted, some semblance of peace.

and yet their mind pleaded for something else every day. busy.  
tubbo needed to be busy, so they wouldn't linger too long on the way they bared their throat to dream's blade, offered their life with gentle goodbyes. they wait out the days instead with little projects that suited them fine, and swore to be there when tommy needed them, when he was ready to come back. so they began their work. experimentation, testing what would best insolate their clothes, tinkering with better ways to warm their basement and playing with the idea of expanding the house as a whole, finding ways to make their cotton more dense as they weaved blankets together and layered them atop their bed until they disappeared under the covers when they slept, which turned into concoctions of oil and magma cream. _that_ is where their fascination began.

tubbo dips a finger into the mixture, rubbing it between their index finger and thumb, bringing it up to their face. the slightest friction was pleasant, warm, a gentle buzz to it that offset the cold bite to the oil the more pressure they put on. they smile as they place the glass container to the side, fidgeting with the concoction, slathering it over their fingertip until it was completely warm, each push and pull of their skin bringing forward another bout of warmth like it was dipped in molasses and fitted into heated cotton gloves. it was perfect. it was so, so warm.

they learned to enjoy it when their head ached and their vision was spotty, unable to even crawl out of bed some days, and that curiosity did not run short in the years they were given to a life of seclusion and safety, wrapped in the snowy bitterness of a spruce forest that shielded them from the rest of the world.  
they were safely lead into another day of silence as they stirred to consciousness, no bursts of laughter or hands grappling at one another in celebration, the occassional heated kiss with hot, heavy gasps that died off into uncertain silence and was never spoken of again as they parted ways and comfortably settled back into gentle shoulder bumps as tubbo made them breakfast — another day without tommy. tubbo was wrapped up in a blanket, voice rasping from their throat as they propped themself up, blearily glancing around the dark room.

"tommy?" they call out into the quiet of the space, the creak of it's very frame groaning as the ocean wind pushed up against the front of the house. they curled their knees to their chest as they weakly sat up, the large comforter pulled around them. there was no response, no head popping over the couch or a groan of complaint from their side, no arms blindly dragging them back to a warm chest. instead, they sank back against the bed with a heavy thud and hid into the sheets.  
their head hurt.

they rose as the sun did, opening the blinds to the sea, the port grand and the broken ice grinding, crackling against one another within the stone structure reaching deep into the gaping ocean. they brushed off the snow from in front of their door, stoked the fire, and began their work leisurely, chin perching upon one knee as they sprawled upon the couch, carefully working with long glass vials and hissing when one got too hot to the touch. their tongue was trapped between their teeth in concentration, brows furrowed tightly.

this went on for hours, careful stirring and mashing of materials into fine powders, little golden blaze robs fractured into small pieces and ground up — dipped into the vile and stirred generously. it almost burned their bare skin, the mixture of oil offset by the fruits of the nether. they didn't mind, were already calloused to these things if the scars reaching up their chest meant anything.

lunch rolled around and yet they weren't hungry, didn't dare peek at the clock, instead — they continued their work. another batch in their little vials, brimming right up to the cork. as they admire their work, they feel something in the air tilt. like ozone and a roaring fire, heat and atmospheric pressure tingled their skin. the crunch of boots through thick snow, it was audible. the scraping of soles against the rough, dark wood that made up those steps. the weight behind every ascending plant of those feet and the slight hobble, the grunt of complaint. they knew it was him. it was tommy.

they almost forgot what they were doing, eyes rapt on the door before it twisted open and cold air gushed into the room, tousling their hair. tommy had to duck his head to slink into the space, his shoulders sagged as he rubbed at his cheek roughly. blonde hairs laid over his face, a messy, small braid travelling down the nape of his neck. hell, he even had a stubble after these days of being away. he was home.

"hey," they greet with a careful dose of awe, like they hadn't seen him in years when it had only been days and couldn't wrap their words up into anything eloquent enough to be worth while. so they smile, voice airy and weightless as they utter a soft, "how're you?"

their grin lit up their face as subtle as it was, bright orbs focused on the tall figure who gripped at his hair blindly. the air tasted sour suddenly, making tubbo's throat clench. tommy struggled to turn to regard them and ultimately decided not to, his eyes downcast as he hobbled to the kitchen counter without so much as kicking off his boots, snow trodden foot prints travelling across their floor. pouring himself a cup of water, tommy just gazed down at it for a moment, shoulders sagging. he placed the glass down shakily. his hands braced on the counter, gripping tightly onto the edge. he shivered, head hanging forward.

"tommy..?" they whisper, feeling that twist of grief and terror tug at their chest, setting down their vials. they lean forward, pressing their weight onto their hand resting on the arm of the couch, "hey, look at me."

tommy hasn't slept. it's obvious under his eyes, red and swollen when he slowly, stiffly moves as if he were commanded. his finger tips tremble even when they're clenched by his side. he shakes, tremors. every inch of his body was betrayed by the visible attempt at courage he fought to maintain on his frozen face.

“i’m cold,” he utters and his voice breaks on the second word, bottom lip trembling. tubbo finally understands the turmoil flickering behind his eyes, that familiar agony of memories that gnawed at his very being until he surely felt less human than the very worms that fertilized the stiff ground sowed with their crops. sitting up slowly, tubbo wiped off their fingers messily on their thigh and they wordlessly offered the only thing they could. their arms open as they push their blanket aside.

tommy doesn't hesitate to wobble to them, collapsing against their chest heavily. they tumble back, holding the trembling body close, allowing tommy's fists to clench in their shirt and listens to him taking deep, measured breaths, feels it burn against the column of their neck. they're unable to help with his sleep, incapable of chasing away whatever keeps him awake, probably can’t drive out the ice which has settled deep into tommy's bones, covered his mind in a frost so heavy and persistent it shows on the outside, but they can try. maybe one day they'll succeed.

for now, all they can do is warm tommy's body, rest a hand on the back of his neck and press the two of them together, hope to transfer enough of their own heat to stop the shivering. they press their cheek to the frigid skin of his ear before retracting, gazing down at him — tommy, who covers every square inch of tubbo's smaller body in his own. draped over them in their entirety, face buried into their chest. their teeth grit with the overwhelming emotion that crashes into their chest before they press their face into the top of his head quickly, a long kiss lingering atop blonde locks as they take a deep inhale. eyes flutter shut and they hear him stutter in a deep breath.

"talk to me," tommy mumbles into their chest, long arms wrapped around their waist, knees colliding clumsily with theirs from time to time.

"oh— uhm, about-about what?"

"... 'dunno. just talk."

they pause, glancing around the little space they could make out in this low lighting. gleaming, glittering, is the full vials, their recent project proven to be a success. they carefully smooth their fingers through his hair as they whisper.

"well i, uh, i made this. these viles. it's very useful especially for this environment, you know. it's five parts oil, a sprinkle of powdered blade rod, one part magma cream — you know how hot magma cream gets in these temperatures? it's unbearable. uhm, but it's a warming oil, I use it for tension headaches and other—ah-uhm _just_ ... headaches." they dumbly sputter, voice trailing off, swallowing thickly. their lack thereof a filter around tommy was coming to a concerning crescendo, never once have they been so close to slipping right off the edge, whispering their confession like they were repenting. but oh, tommy wasn't as forgiving as whatever god lay above and watched them toss and turn — because he goes positively quiet. he stills, lifting his head to meet their gaze as he hums out a low noise, contemplative in a surely condescending way. he wasn't stupid, he heard the way they tripped and stumbled.

"just for headaches?" tommy prompts slowly, gazing up at tubbo and they feel hunted. a rabbit from last night, where they bound over fallen trees and thick plains of snow, ended with an arrow skewered through it's body. they knew now what it felt like, that pounding of adrenaline, the desire for escape when there was none, the the thumping of heart and nerves alike. predatory are those blue orbs and they know they've been caught, the arrow has pinned them in place and all they can do is sit there, frozen, terrified, judgement awaiting them.

tommy's nose brushed theirs and they shudder, shame burning their cheeks when they realize he hadn't even _done_ anything. lips hadn't even brushed, skin hadn't yet been nipped, explored, claimed, it was uncharted territory and already they were proving they would surrender everything.  
"can i kiss you?" tommy whispers as he takes in that look of sheer submission. his throat bobs, swallowing thickly as those big blue orbs answer for them. a silent plea, a tangible nod that brushed their foreheads. tommy doesn't wait. he lurches forward, but instead catches their bottom lip between his teeth with ease. they gasp, open mouthed as tommy sucks on it, kissing and nipping everywhere around their mouth. tiny noises escaped them every moment he edged closer to finally locking their lips, whining breathlessly when he pulled away. he was toying with them, poking and prodding until they swat at his face and shield their own, pressing both hands to their cheeks. he chuckles, leaning back without so much as breaking eye contact.

"what 'bout that oil, tubs? can i test it out for something a little different?" tommy snickers as he settles comfortably atop them, hovering.

"f-for _what_?" they croak, voice breaking. the tension in the air was tight, their breath already stolen by the way tommy's lips brushed theirs, making tubbo mindlessly strain up — whining when he pulls back.

tommy gazes down at them before scoffing, eyes coming to settle back upon theirs, "for what?" he echoes with a low chuckle, voice dipping into a husky rumble, "wanna see you use it, tubs. oh, that sounds right up your alley”, tommy chuckles enthusiastically as he weighs the bottle in his hand, watching it slosh against the inside of the glass, “you want to do it?”

“what, _now_!?” tubbo sputters and really, it’s just a joke. only then tommy pauses and they hold eye contact and they know they’re both thinking it, tommy's eyes wild with the possibilities.

“i’m not going to-to **wank** on my new couch, tommy," they utter and sound more convinced than they actually are because the thought is intriguing to their fuzzy mind. they've been throughly and sloppily teased here already, why not go a step further? they amend their last statement: “a—at least ... i’m not doing it on my _own_.”

“hey. you said it, not me, let it be known tubbo thought about it first—” tommy chuckles and yes, he’s indubitably on _that_ side of satisfied where his playful recklessness bleeds into his very iron composure and forms a volatile mixture that entertains and concerns tubbo endlessly.

“wha-! whatever — didn’t you say you don’t like lube?”

“no, no, you dumbass, I mean — I wanna use it on you.”

another pause, this one much longer. weighing the pros and cons is futile seeing as the only pro of this scenario is _it’s going to feel so amazing_ whereas the cons include a pontentially awkward relationship in the future if they ultimately decide to revert back to anything strictly platonic, overstepping pretty much all boundaries tubbo holds sacred, the judgement they'll face when they _inevitably_ blurt out what happened to someone completely unrelated. there’s nothing redeeming about this. absolutely nothing. tommy thumbs the cork cap without tearing his eyes away from tubbo who is watching him under thick lashes.  
"okay”, tubbo hears themself whisper, “s—sure. why not?”

“sweet. lay back then, i'm not doing this with you all tangled up in your blankets.” tommy mutters as the cork scatters to the side.

tubbo possesses neither the presence of mind nor the ability to explain to tommy why nothing of what he’s saying is reaching their brain, so they decide to leave it and flop back on the couch, refusing to think about their current situation too hard. still, their blood is rushing in their ears and admittedly into their groin in anticipation. they love tommy, feels incredibly safe in his presence and adores him for regularly humouring tubbo's antics even if it came with heatless insults; alright, they also had the occasional passing thought about their best friend but never anything specific. well, maybe once. they might’ve fantasised about him while touching themself once. or twice.

“you really don’t need to—”

“tubbo, i fucking offered.”

“well—! i just didn't want you to regret this ...”

"stop complaining or i might, dipshit. and lean back.” tubbo's mouth snaps shut and they obey, propping themself up on their elbows, spreading their legs so tommy can fit between them and all of sudden, it’s intimate and embarrassing at the same time. their patterned sweater is pushed up, exposing their pale stomach and the stiff scars burning up their chest, their jeans are clumsily unbuttoned, zipped open and there’s a split second of doubt, the last moment where they could still stop this – but they let it pass. their head feels light, their limbs are relaxed and as tommy's warm, calloused fingers gingerly pull out their cock - they find it's half-hard already.

“not bad,” tommy snorts.

tubbo huffs a shaky laugh at the words as well as tommy's curious expression as he gently palms them, examines every angle and then makes tubbo inhale sharply by rubbing a calloused thumb over the sensitive head.  
“ _tommy_ , get on with it. you’re meant to—ah—jerk it, not _hold_ it.”

“fine fine _fine_ , jesus! don’t be so bossy, it’s annoying.” tommy reaches over and swipes up the warming oil, pours some into his palm and, without further ado, wraps his slick fingers around tubbo's shaft, moves them up and down slowly before switching to massaging the tip, prompting a high gasp from the smaller, their lungs filling quickly. their dick is filling with blood now, thoroughly relishing in the foreign touch, the smooth slide and especially the fact that it’s _tommy_ groping them right now.  
“can you feel it?” tommy prompts in a heavy, heated whisper, watching them twitch up into the touch with a quiet mewl.

for a moment, they're completely distracted by the view of the broad hand encircling their erection, the friction that shot heat up their spine and burned their cheeks, forgot how it came about and is abruptly filled with desire so strong it makes their cock twitch in tommy's palm. then they notice the delicious warmth amplifying the pleasure and gasps. “y-yeah, it’s – it’s nice. mmh ... it’s _really_ nice.”

“what's it feel like?”

“s-so ... warm. like every li'le— ah, the friction it's ... nngh, keep going like this.” each stroke feels godly, they’re too slow and teasing yet they have no objections against enjoying this, whatever it is, for as long as possible, they're in no rush and tommy … he seems ridiculously _pleased_ for some reason, keeps tightening his grip on each upstroke and alternates between watching tubbo and their erect cock, delighted about every reaction he can tickle out of them. which is plenty, considering how sensitive tubbo is.

“have you been jerked by a dude before?” tubbo shakes their head before they can catch themself – their inhibitions are long gone, courtesy of the strong buzz occupying most of their consciousness. “no? how would it be then? reckon you would like it?”

“th-they wouldn't be as chatty as you, I can tell you _that_.” tubbo utters breathily, eyes fluttering as they tilt their head back, concentrating on the prickling heat and the tender ministrations making them arch into the touches, not even worrying about the fact that they used the plural in their reply _—_ implying they were willing to go so far with more than just tommy. maybe they should worry. there was a possessive glint buried in those eyes.

“this how you jack off normally?” the exploration has stopped now, tommy is pumping their dick steadily and confidently – so confidently, in fact, that tubbo suspects it’s not the first time _he’s_ done this to someone else.

“hhgh! ye—yeah. a bit faster." they dare to crack open their eyes again, their gaze as hot as his slippery fingers and tubbo knows it’s not just the lube that sets their skin ablaze.

“do you finger yourself?”

the question is weirdly intimate despite the whole situation yet they feel compelled to answer. “yeah—yes, yes—" they sputter, choking on a moan.

“if this stuff feels good on your dick, it’s gotta be mind blowing up your ass. take off your pants.”

tubbo laughs brokenly, twitching in his hand. “tommy, you must be joking.” they look at each other and tommy does _something_ with his fingers that makes tubbo suck air in through their teeth and then they realise tommy _is_ being serious, just like tubbo themself, and why are they even still clothed? suppressing all the protests flaring up at the idea of allowing their best friend to finger them to an undoubtedly mind-blowing orgasm, they toe off one of their shoes and helps tommy to mostly remove their trousers and underwear, leaving them pooled around one ankle. their cock meets this new development with unbridled enthusiasm, leaking onto tubbo's belly, red and begging, twitching once more when tommy bends the naked leg to pull tubbo's limb around his waist, exposing them fully.

as usual, tommy wastes no time, is efficient and yet clumsy and lubes up the fingers of his other hand before he softly touches one digit to tubbo's hole, rubbing slightly until he feels it relax, the lube once again spreading a soothing warmth; then he slips it inside and there’s no doubt now, he’s _had to_ havedone this before, there's no way he's this confident and self-aware for a first time. fully trusting him to do the right thing, tubbo lies down flat and stares at the beams holding up their house, whimpering when he grinds the pad of his finger against sensitive walls.

tommy is stroking him again while he simultaneously moves his finger inside, a gentle invasion that only adds to the arousal coursing through tubbo's body, for a while, they just float on this high, content in their passivity and revelling in the way everything spins around them, then their big mouth gets the better of them and tubbo gasps: “add another—add another, _pl-please_. i'm used to- i can handle it.”

to tommy's credit, he obliges wordlessly and even starts scissoring his fingers while he still jerks tubbo at a leisurely, sloppy pace, focusing on the sensitive underhead and massaging the edge of the slit, tightening around the base everytime. mixed with the warmth of the lube, it’s sensational, steals tubbo's breath away already and then they feel the fingers curling against their prostate and moans high and loud not only because they're insanely turned on but because tommy utters an awed, "holy shit". they don't miss the short pause that follows his vocalisation. did tommy not know what he did?

they test their theory by whimpering loudly the next time those skilled fingertips brush over their prostate and grinds their hips back against them needily. they had one leg kicked over the back of the couch, the other nearly falling off the edge, legs spread wide apart as their heels dug into the furniture and they uselessly lifted their hips to seek more friction. the otherwise skilled movements are interrupted yet again as tommy utters, "holy shit you look so good like this, are you alright?"

tubbo flushes shyly at that, shakily propping themself up on their elbows to catch tommy running his gaze over their naked legs and their leaking cock, chewing on his bottom lip and sporting a visible bulge in his own trousers. ignoring their own arousal for the moment, tubbo reaches out hopefully, gripping at the air, "want you in me ..."

tommy's eyes snap up, alarmed. he hesitates, an awed smile breaking out upon his face. “y—you think so? are you sure?" he croaks, his voice thick.

“yeah. yeah, positive.” they wait until tommy's hands have withdrawn from their body, leaving them empty and thrumming with need before he rocks back on his heels, kicking off his trousers and pulled out his sizeable erection, ever so pragmatic is tubbo, prompting them to arch their eyebrows and whisper: “oh. should’ve used three fingers.”

"shut it, quit making my head all big”, tommy replies with a grin mirroring tubbo's, both chuckling before he leans back over them, looking them up and down, "you reckon you can do it without three? cause, not sure if you know this but, i'm kind of massive."

“you can't be serious— ugh, why am I friends with you”, tubbo snorts and laughs so hard at tommy's mock hurt expression that they have to support themself, gripping onto the hems of his shirt. the entire situation feels surreal now, they’re about to have sex yet all they can think about is how ridiculous it’s going to look, getting fucked on their brand new couch.

they ignore how the sight of tommy staring at them while slicking up his erection makes something in their insides flutter and instead spreads their legs wider, chewing on their bottom lip. they can't ignore how his voice makes their mouth go dry, that low, heady rasp, “you ready?”

_I’ve been ready for months_ , tubbo thinks and only nods. they crane their neck to catch a glimpse of tommy's dick and it’s _exactly_ as big as it was in his palm. they both are silent as they admire the view, only a single tiny noise escaping even as the tip touches tubbo's entrance, applies pressure and slips in when they had relaxed. they arch, spreading their legs a bit more so tommy is angled down, lowers their head so they can see the cock between their legs. “this is ridiculous”, tubbo states shakily and snickers up to the point where tommy pushes in all the way and suddenly they don't feel like laughing anymore _whatsoever_.

their nails dig into the couch and their mouth falls open at the unfamiliar, yet entirely welcome, feeling of becoming one with someone else. being invaded this intimately is making their head swim and their eyes roll back momentarily into their skull. they're so turned on they can’t utter a single word, only moaning brokenly as their best friend slowly sinks deeper and deeper into them, into the willing heat and satisfying stretch. tommy's cock is large, they can feel their insides fitting snugly around it, and is aware of every inch in their body. for a second they're worried about passing out, the heat of it is almost unbearable, but tommy is licking a slow, wet strip up their throat and distracting them from the way that their head lolls uselessly to the side.

" _ohmygod_ ," they rush out in one short gasp, staring hazily up at the ceiling, "oh—ah- hnn ..."

"mmh— good?" tommy prompts cooley as he hovers over them, ignoring the slight tremor to his voice when tubbo decided to clench around him as they gripped at the back of their thigh. they nod frantically, wordlessly, as they bite into their bottom lip and their eyes flutter.

"y—you're - all ... nnh—youre actually in - in me, you're s-so ..." they felt terribly stupid. spewing all this nonsense, gasped to the ceiling, too gobsmacked to leave room for coherence, leading their face to flush a deep hue of shame.

"yeah," tommy instead whispers his encouragement and the smile is audible in his voice, face brushing their throat, gyrating his hips as if to grind his point into place, which he does. because tubbo squeaks, twitching slightly at the endless rut and reach of tommy inside of them, "gonna be the only one to ever fuck you like this. you're mine."

tubbo's eyes squeeze shut, mouth falling open in awe but only a quiet noise strangled from their throat as tommy gives a slow rock forward followed by a gentle withdrawal.

"i—i feel — it's so ... b—bh-big," they sputter, hiccuping weakly at the feeling of tommy rubbing, skimming the bundle of nerves deep inside them as they cry out softly. tommy's pride is something that multiplies in that moment, thrilling the arousal pooling in his gut. absorbing the breathless confession, taking in the sight of tubbo's glassy eyes, their throat darkened with the occassional hickie. every part of them was his, all his.

"yeah? is it—is it okay?" tommy murmurs carefully as he brushes their noses, foreheads resting together. he feels them nod shakily. they already did so much for him, he planned to show them just a sliver of how much he truly loved them back.

"so fuckin' beautiful ... should be illegal," tommy comments with a low rumble. the first movements are tentative and shallow, visible by the heavy shaft appearing and disappearing again, creating delicious friction that slowly drives them insane despite the ludicrous, sparing view. they feel tommy's fingers tighten on their hipbones and then they feel him withdrawing carefully, slamming back in and almost knocking them off balance, hitching them further up the couch as they wail at that, the collision with their prostate instant, their toes curling. they're holding on for dear life as they spasm around their best friend who remains completely still within them — like he was doing this to get a reaction and he got the one he had been hoping for. tubbo, whimpering and twitching as the threat of tears springs closer to the edge, eyes glazed over, lips plump and sore from their teeth sinking into the delicate skin and from the heavy, hot kisses they had shared.

“tubbo," he murmurs and sounds wrecked already as they whimper quietly, trying desperately to recover from the mind-blowing feeling of that bundle of nerves being abused then slowly rubbed as he worked his hips against their ass, “fuuck ... you feel so fucking _good_.”

tubbo mewls, head tossed to the side as they try their best to hide their face into the blanket bunched up around their shoulders. tommy groans as he buries his face into their exposed throat, resting one hand on the arm of the couch and the other onto their hip, fingertips digging in.

with that, he begins thrusting into them for real, pulling tubbo's hips flush with his own again and again, aiming for that sweet spot and keeping the angle when tubbo keens loudly and they suck in a surely painful inhale that rattles their throat and breaks their voice.

"fffuuck ... _baby_ ," tommy groans lowly and they want to hear that again. it’s carnal, tubbo loses themself completely in the pleasure that courses through them like wildfire, the sensations amplified manifold due to the deep, stimulating buzz of what's inside them, denying them any distractions, so all they can do is focus on the desire pulsing through their veins. tommy's thrusts are hard and deep, chipping away at the crumbled remains of tubbo's composure, wrenching more and more noises from their throat, only going higher and higher until they smack a hand over their mouth and sob into their palm. whether it was in fear that anyone could somehow be near enough to hear them losing themself, or if it was their burning, writhing shame coiling in their chest at the noises ripping from their throat — they couldn't say. tommy growls at that, leaning back enough to take a free hand to peel their hand from their mouth, gripping tubbo by the wrist. he blatently makes eye contact with them as he presses a slow, honeyed kiss to their palm before drifting down, exposing the inside of their forearm as he suckles their wrist, the sound of skin on skin filling the air as he didn't slow. he even dared to form a purple mark on their wrist, nipping sharply on the pale canvas with a throaty grumble. tubbo feels a flash of warmth travel up their spine, whimpering as tommy's eyes darkened, his lips retracting with a wet noise.

tommy leans back over them, boxing them in, before continuing with equal vigor that has them reeling, bright blue orbs rolling briefly back into their skull, eyelids fluttering. they make up for it by meeting tommy, adapting to his rhythm and rolling their hips into him shakily, clenching and causing them both to groan in bliss when they tightened just right around the dick crammed inside them, a slightly visible bulge tugging at their gut. their fingers clench and unclench as they twitch, giving a breathless noise of relief when tommy slows. they weakly skim their fingertips over the lump that comes with each grueling thrust, whimpering brokenly when tommy growls, twitching inside of them. the bulge is tangible under the pads of their digits. tommy was so big, they were so small, it was enough to make this terribly arousing sight a reality. tubbo swears brokenly — this was something they didn't know they needed, their own leaking cock twitching against their stomach.

there’s a noise, something hitting the floor next to them and tubbo realises what it is when a warm, slicked hand wraps around their dick — tommy must’ve covered one of his palms in the warming oil and has decided to jerk them off, slamming back inside of them, setting a rhythm, only now he’s playing a dangerous game as they squeal — hips twitching.

“t—ah-tommy! mh' so cl-ose—! gonna ... ah! wait- gonna come right—it's-ah! ah! ah! w-wai- don’t—!” they don't want this to be over so quickly, they want to stay like this forever even if their legs are threatening to cramp up and their arms and neck ache from all the writhing and arching, but if tommy keeps stroking them like this, _fucking_ them like this, they won’t last another minute.

“it’s okay”, tommy replies shakily, voice reduced to a gritty rumble, “m—me too.”

this alone seals the deal. if tommy is already on the edge, it means tubbo is affecting him a whole lot more than he’d admit and the thought is so very thrilling. both of them are chasing their release now, moving in unison and filling the air with strangled gasps and the consistent spew of moans from tubbo. the hand on tubbo's dick is insistent and curious and they were right about the concoction slathered over their cock and rubbing against their insides, it _does_ feel fucking amazing and a few seconds later they're proven correct once more. because their orgasm _is_ mind-blowing.

tubbo's legs are trembling when they're pushed over the edge with a blissful cry, their cock spurting come all over tommy's fist that never stops moving, their hole contracting around the throbbing shaft that releases deep into them at the same time, tommy groaning. he whines brokenly into tubbo's neck, muffling the noise instantly as he bites down with a husky snarl. it’s all a blur. their insides being painted white, the smell of sex permeating the cool air, everything feels so real and overwhelming. tubbo's abdomen flutters as they both ride it out, drunk on each other, trying to catch their breath and relaxing into the aftershocks, floating on the pleasurable sensations encompassing them.

their peel apart was slow, tedious. first it was tommy's teeth, detaching carefully from the muscle at the crook of their neck. it was red and swelling — they whimper when he gives it a careful lick.

"why are you s—... so.. big?" they croak between heavy pants, jaw slack as they gasp into the open air, fingers weakly curled around his forearm where his hand was planted beside their head.

"why are you so - so fuckin' small?" tommy counters lowly, still buried inside them. the bulge in their stomach was an addicting sight to be seen and he couldn't help but groan as he brushed his thumb against the subtle convex lift to their abdomen. tommy curiously grinds forward once more to feel it under his fingertips, but tubbo strangles out a crackling sob as their grip tightened until blunt nails dug into tommy's skin and gasped out a, "waitwaitwait—" as their body spasms, twitching, impaled.

"'kay, sorry—" tommy chuckled as they sigh their relief when he stills, chest still rapidly rising and falling with their deep gasps for air.

"just wanted to see you all riled up again," he whispers against the shell of their ear, breathing out a hot breath where their neck met their jawline, earning a tiny whine and a miniscule "nooo" from tubbo. tommy snickers against their throat, pulling back to hover over his best friend, eyes rapt as he rests a hand on their hip. tommy grunted, slowly pulling out, stopping everytime tubbo winced or whispered out a hushed "stop, stop". they whine in overstimulation, mewling when they feel tommy finally pull away, cum dribbling from their hole onto the couch.

"i ... am going to take a nap, when i wake up that—" tubbo yawned, "better be clean and ..."

tommy was, and always has been, devious. so when he slips down between their thighs and murmurs a breathy, "don't worry about it," against the inside of their thigh, they should have known they would feel him lick a long stripe against their hole. instead, they squeal — their evening is spent wrestling on the couch and eventually sinking into a steaming bath together, dinner is made hand in hand and they collapse in bed, tangled up in each other's limbs, the sound of mellohi drifting through the air.

they're happy. for however long that lasts, it's all worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> hiiii request some prompts for me please!? i want to try and do some shorter pieces ^^ since these ones take forever


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